All I Need

Disclaimer: The characters and subsequent terms are all property of J.K. Rowling and the publishing companies to which…published them. That should do.

Rating: T (To be safe…)

Summary: This is a Harry Potter and House, M.D. crossover-future fan fiction. There is a new head doctor at Princeton-Planesboro Teaching Hospital and just maybe, she'll bring a little 'magic' with her.

A/N: Explanation time with the author. When I began this story I thought little to nothing of the time continuum. In reality for this story to take place, well, House would have to be much older and Miranda much younger. So I say this with great dignity and manner--screw time. Seriously, it is what might be S5 for House and that matches up with the nearly twenty years into the future for Harry Potter. Suspension of disbelief would be wise. I hope this doesn't ruin the story. Oh, one more note, please don't judge the characters too quickly their stories are still very much playing out. Read, review or heckle--it's yours to do.

Etc. A/N: This is long. It will be awhile before I can update after this. Sorry--major work and vacation ahead. ;)

--EllaTwain

SNAPE SUMMER HOME

Hermione Granger-Snape sat in an over-stuffed chair in a cozy drawing room in the front of the house. She simply sat there and watched as her other daughters: Eileen and Lillian attached them selves to Miranda's sides on the matching couch across the room. The girls jabbered with such fury as Miranda struggled to completely understand all they were saying.

Hermione Granger-Snape was a woman who had aged with grace and beauty. Her hair was tamer, grayer, and styled in a new fashion Ginny had insisted she try. Hermione had kept her body and composure as a result of being the mother to seven kids, a grandmother too, a full-time job within the Department of De-Charming and Prevention in the Ministry, and still keeping a house…of sorts. The lines around her eyes were deeper and the wrinkles on her were a little more pronounced. However, as evident by last night's activities, her husband still found her gorgeous and worth the ravishing.

Her daughter, her first-born daughter, was stunning. Eileen and Lillian were pretty; taking far too much after her with their respective brown and black frazzled hair and their father's skinny gaunt build and color. They had both learned, much like Hermione, to use what they had been dealt to their advantages. However, both paled in comparison to their older sister, and it was never as obvious as now as the three sat next to each other.

Miranda's hair was beautifully tame and curly. Her build was almost athletic. Hermione remembered she had mentioned once her love of running. (This seemed odd to Hermione because the only time she or Severus ever ran was for their lives.) She glowed from the State-side sun. Then there were Miranda's eyes; they were magical. They were her father's. Hermione knew such eyes; those were the eyes that had drawn her to Severus and pulled her into him and their ultimate destiny together. All of the children had her brilliant shining eager eyes but Miranda. Miranda had the eyes of mysteries, secrets, and deep ancient magic. Maybe it was why Severus never looked at his daughter anymore. Looking into her eyes was a bitter reminder of all that had been lost over the years and all that would never be.

Hermione clued into the conversation just as Lillian was asking Miranda about her new post.

"Right, the Hospital." Miranda slightly flustered. "Uh, where to begin? Princeton-Planesboro Teaching Hospital is in New Jersey and the leading hospital in diagnostics and radical and innovative medical research and techniques."

"And you are the Department Head of…?" Eileen quizzed, curiously.

"I am the Department Head of the free Medical Clinic and the recently constructed Dialysis Clinic. I will be over-seeing all the doctors that report to Clinic for duty and I will be running the Dialysis Clinic and perhaps even consulting if needed elsewhere in the Hospital."

"That sounds real impressive." Lillian encouraged.

Miranda gave a glance at her quiet mother. Hermione had yet to say much in the conversation but appeared to be observing it all. Something within Miranda sunk a little but she buoyed as much as she could. "It is in the Muggle world, I suppose. But enough about me, tell me Eileen about your apprenticeship."

Eileen then launched on a forty-five minute explanation of her up-coming apprenticeship with a wizarding group in France that worked on wand construction. Eileen was passionate about wands and fascinated by their magic and existence. She and her twin brother, Henry had just only graduated from Hogwarts. While Eileen would be going to France, Henry was headed to Romania to work with dragons with Charlie Weasley.

Miranda listened as best she could, nodded at the right moments, and commented when needed. She understood far more about what Eileen and Henry would be doing than any of her other siblings understood about her own career. This failed to really bother her. It was the way of things.

"Have you settled in?"

It was Hermione who broke through Eileen's excitement and directed a question to Miranda.

Miranda was a little startled and turned her attention to her Mum. "Yes, just this past week. I was able to rent a loft close-by the Hospital. It's reasonable and quite pretty and extremely practical."

"Did the Hospital aid you in the lease?"

"No. I paid for it myself. I worked for a Dialysis Clinic during my fellowship. I used that money to pay the lease."

"You know you could have--"

"What? Asked you and Father? What would I ask for? Knuts? Galleons? I have no idea what the conversion rate is anymore. I have never asked you for aid and I don't intend to start now, Mum."

"Then why did you switch your ticket?"

Miranda sighed. She should have known they would find out what she did.

"What's Mum talking about Randa?" Lillian asked, not liking being out of the loop.

"I switched my plane ticket to coach and pocketed the extra money."

"Why?"

"Because Heads of free Medical Clinics and brand-new Dialysis Units don't make all that much money and pretty lofts near hospitals are expensive." She explained quickly.

"Miranda…" Hermione sighed. "I really wish you would get over this stubbornness and let us help you. Your father and I both have excellent jobs and have done well at providing for all our children so far; why not you?"

The words were out before Hermione had any concept of how it sounded. Fortunately for Miranda she had just as many years with her Mum making such comments and the like.

"Mum- I have never gone hungry. I have never gone without an education of the highest standards, clothing, shelter and anything that the government might consider a necessity for life. No I will not be making as much as my other siblings or ever do as well but then again I do not live in this world. In the Muggle world, in the States, I will be fine and far above the poverty level line. Don't worry about me- I never will face the dangers your other children will face in their careers. The worse possible danger I will face in my job is the head diagnostician who is possibly clinically insane. That's all. Place your worries elsewhere Mum- they would be far better there than ever with me."

There was no malice in Miranda's tone nor hurt or even bitterness. Her tone was simple acceptance of how things were and ought to be. She sounded dreadfully like her Father. And just as he did- it didn't mean that those same words didn't pain Hermione any less. On one hand, she was quite proud her daughter was an independent and self-sufficient young woman. Nonetheless, on the other, she knew she had no part in that. Miranda had become that way on her own with no one's help. Not that she would have taken it anyway.

"I guess you're right." Hermione muttered, struggling to grasp Miranda's statement.

Lillian sighed and fell backwards to the back of the couch. She was younger than Miranda by a year or so and knew the history of her parents and her absent sister. She was still younger and had had very little time to get to know Miranda. Those few times she had- she always ended-up feeling sorry for her parents. Leo, Remus, Theo and even Eileen and Henry had taken Miranda's side in the whole disaster of the relationship. Perhaps there were things Leo, Remus and Theo knew that the younger ones didn't. Lillian still couldn't help feel that Miranda did just as much pushing if not more than Mum and Dad.

Miranda seemed arrogant at times and determined to delineate the lines between the magical and non-magical worlds; as if to establish the boundary between herself and everyone else. They were magic and she wasn't. Lillian believed there had to be a little magic within Miranda for her be normally extraordinary as she was.

"Why didn't you apply for a job here?"

"What?" Miranda asked, a little thrown-off by Lillian's question.

"I mean, why didn't you apply for a Muggle hospital job in London? You'd could be closer to home and to the family and still work in a distinguished hospital, right?"

Hermione looked at her daughter, who didn't squirm or flinch but still seemed a little uneasy at Lillian's line of questioning. It was there in Miranda's eyes.

"Ummm…I don't know…" Miranda sighed, not wanting to go here but here is where they had gone. "I guess a lot of reasons. I love the States, especially New Jersey and New York. I have loads of friends all over there that I keep in touch with and visit. The hospital I will be working at is the chance of a lifetime. I'm very lucky to be hired at such a high position and being so young, too. Those are the reasons, I guess."

"But you could've made friends here. Your family's here. I'm sure Mum and Dad could've used connections and gotten you at a hospital here that might have paid better, too." Lillian countered.

Eileen glared at her sister. What was she doing? Was she trying to guarantee that Miranda never came home again?

"What hospital would they have connected me to Lillian? St. Mungo's? I doubt they need a 'Squib Muggle' doctor amongst their qualified staff." Miranda huffed.

Hermione glared at her daughter, her voice was stone and ferocious. "Miranda Jane Snape, I will not have you use that word in my house. I don't care if you are even referring to yourself, is that clear?"

Miranda's head fell and she spoke quietly but assuredly. "But Mum, it is what I am. I am a 'Squib' and that to my knowledge it is the technical term for a person born of magical parents with no apparent magical abilities. That is me. I don't like the term anymore than you but other than classifying myself as a Muggle, which I prefer but am not, what am I to do?" Miranda then turned to Lillian. "Lillian, to answer your question, I have known no other home than the New York City and of late, Princeton. Home is where your heart is Lillian and my heart has never resided here. If you wish to blame me for it, as I imagine you do, then go ahead. I will take blame for not coming home, for staying away as long as I can, and for making pitiful excuses for not visiting as I should. But Lillian, the blame will never rest on me alone. After all, I did not send myself away…that was your parents."

With that Miranda stood and took her leave of the room to the guest bedroom she had been assigned.

Eileen was livid. The youngest Snape was her Mum in spades when it came to passion for underdogs. "HOW COULD YOU SAY SUCH THINGS LILLIAN?!" Eileen howled at her sister. "Isn't bad enough she won't come to visit unless Mum begs? Isn't bad enough we don't ever see her? What are you trying to accomplish- that we never see our sister again? Did you even give a moment's pause to think how hard it would be for her to live here with all of us- in our world but not of it? Did you think that this is her opportunity to follow her own destiny? Who are you to judge where that should be--"

"Eileen, that is ENOUGH!" Hermione interrupted her daughter. "From both of you that is enough. From now on when it comes to Miranda all conversations on why she hasn't moved home, visited, or considered seeing the family more is off limits. She has her reasons and at her age, you owe her the respect to live with them. You don't have to agree with it- but we must all live it." And with their Mum's words, the conversation and horrific meeting were over.

A good home must be made, not bought. --Joyce Maynard

I am hiding.

I am hiding again. I am nine years old hiding from my parents and my brothers and my sisters. I hated summers. I hated summers here after 'everything' happened.

But I love this house. I love this house because there is absolutely nothing magical about it. There's the odd disillusionment charm when company visits but other than that, this house is as Muggle as its previous owners. My Mum inherited the house from a great-uncle and great-aunt upon their deaths and shortly after her marriage. My Father and Mum agreed it wouldn't do as a year-round residence but for a summer place and what appeared to be a growing family- it was ideal. Every summer like clockwork my family would floo or portkey to the house with summer essentials in tow and spend countless days and afternoons enjoying the house and Lake.

When I was younger-I think five maybe- I remember my Father and I going out towards the Lake. Near the Lake were two perfectly situated trees; where my Father made appear a large very comfortable hammock. We climbed in the hammock on the sweet summer day and I lay in his arms and he read to me from one of the many books he owned. (I am certain it was about the history of a potions master; of which one I have forgotten.) I fell asleep in the afternoon and he carried me all the way back to the house. No apparating. No flying. Just walked with me in his arms back home; it was then I thought I would be his little girl. I was something important to this stern and broken man. I would be content to spend everyday with him; learning from him and listening to his smooth and dazing voice.

It was two years later, that in the library of this house I love, I heard him speak of sending me away. I heard him and my Mum wonder what to do with the likes of me. I wandered back to the trees that night and with everything I had in me I tried and tried to conjure a bloody hammock. I had even gone to the lengths to steal Leo's wand. It merely backfired and sent me into the shallow ends of the rising tides. Soaked, tear-stained, and in loads of trouble for first stealing a wand and secondly causing my brother to get in trouble with the Ministry, I ran to my room.

My last night of magic and wanting anything to do with the magic my family possessed. I won't lie and say I haven't used magic to communicate with others in this world or to travel but I avoid it best I can.

It's funny how a single room can transport you across time as I sit in the library of the un-magical house. The library is round and large. It is a perfect circle with a never-ending ceiling. Every nook and cranny is packed with books from Muggle to magical. There are two breaks in the circle. The first is for a perfectly situated window seat that overlooks the Lake. It's cushioned and long enough to stretch out on. The other break is smaller and in the corner of the wall is small chair. The chair is rather uncomfortable and stiff and smells of a musty dungeon. It's my Father's chair.

I prefer the window seat. As I walk in the room I finger the texts and thousands upon thousands of books on thousands of subjects. I am not sure if my family knows how many I have read. We use to have competitions as children on who could read the most of them in a summer season. (What can I say? We are our parents' children--book obsessed and crazed as much as they are.) The competitions ended for me when I was ten but by then I can safely say I have read at least 75 of these books. My secret favorite is Hogwarts: A History. It wasn't until Leo graduated that I was ever to see the place I had read of so often and I was enthralled. I would never be able to go there or attend the beloved magic school but somehow reading about it made me feel better. It shouldn't have but it did.

I am settling myself in my window seat. I have a cup of coffee. (The proof I have lived the States too long Lillian quipped.) I also have five medical journals containing articles from colleagues: Doctors Eric Foreman, Allison Cameron, Lawrence Kutner, James Wilson, and the doctor himself Doctor Gregory House. Doctors Foreman and Kutner wrote on cases they worked on as fellows under Doctor House. Doctor Cameron wrote hers on a case involving a very bizarre emergency room patient and the relationship to the patient's parents affecting the case. Doctor Wilson's article is on the ramifications of false hope in cancer patients. Then there's Doctor House's article on the case of a young woman who could not feel pain and was the host for a very long parasitic tapeworm. I'm hoping these articles will give me a little more insight to my colleagues.

In my interview I met with Doctor Cuddy, Doctor Wilson, and Doctor Cameron took me on a tour of the Hospital and its resources. I was impressed with the Hospital and the management under Doctor Cuddy. Doctor Wilson seemed immensely friendly and accommodating and helped me locate the loft which I leased. Doctor Cameron was pleasant and unabashedly honest. She was the current Head of the Emergency Unit at P.P.T.H. and a former-fellow of Doctor House. She minced no words in describing the staff at P.P.T.H. and what I would be 'dealing' with as the Head of the Clinics. She gave me fair warnings on my new job.

I was fast to inform Allison, as she insisted I call her, that I was full-aware of the staff- having heard plenty of stories at John Hopkins and in New Orleans from former peers of Doctor House and the like. I smiled as I told her very politely I was more than capable of handling problems that would arise. She gave a quirked smile, unsure if I truly was but then finally shrugged. We spent the rest of the time discussing policies and the complete disregard for most if not all of them eventually in my career. She shared several case stories with me; leaving me impressed and curious about P.P.T.H.

I opened the first journal when a presence appeared in the room. I didn't need to look-up from my journal or even give the presence acknowledgement.

It was my Father.

After years as the imposing and threatening-greasy-git Potions Master and Former Slytherin Head of House at Hogwarts, he had the distinct pleasure of honing the skills of hovering in a menacing 'quiet' way. He oozed into a room and sometimes a person could wonder if he floated rather than walked somewhere. Although he no longer wore the dark and eerie robes of a Hogwarts' professor but a far more 'casual' look of khaki slacks and a black long-sleeved shirt; he never lost his ability to strike fright into people in a given room. To me, in this instant, the room seemed to grow colder as he came in.

As I said, I hadn't always felt like that--there was a time things were different but that all changed when I graduated from high school.

:FLASHBACK:

"Say, 'Hello Princeton!'" Mr. Henton instructed as he took a picture of the 'crew.'

The 'Crew' as they had been known by everyone at St. Peter's consisted of Mir Snape, Tara Henton, Branden Freeves, Sarah Houp, and Rob and Paul Jordan. Miranda and Branden were the youngest, both graduating at 16 years old; while Sarah was the oldest at 19. The 'Crew' had been 'lifers' at St. Peter's and a motley sort of family. Mir was the only in-school resident student in the 'Crew.' However, that didn't stop all of the other families from adopting her as one of their own. She had vacationed in Hamburg with the Freeves, Wales with the Houps, Martha's Vineyard with Hentons and Jordans. She made the rounds to all the families on all the standard holidays since the age of ten.

This hadn't been a problem for the past eight years since Miranda had come to St. Peter's but nothing lasts forever. Graduation would be the first time the families met the Snapes.

It was after the graduation and Miranda and the 'Crew' were having their picture taken by Mr. Henton. While the photos were being taken, Mrs. Houp took the opportunity to introduce herself to the restrained oddly misplaced Snape family.

"Mrs. Snape…" Kristine Houp cautiously asked as she outreached her hand to the mother. Mrs. Snape was not at all what Kristine or the other mothers had pictured. When she had arrived and Miranda absentedly pointed to the family that was hers, right before the ceremony. Mrs. Snape was of medium-height, medium-build, and looked far younger than her husband. Something in her face though told Kristine that she wasn't any younger than the rest of them though. Mrs. Snape very cordially took Kristine's hand and returned with a small smile. "I'm Kristine Houp, Sarah's mother. That's my brother, Kris and Tara's father taking the picture. I just wanted to introduce myself and tell you how much we just adore and love your daughter."

"Hermione, please. And thank-you for you have done for Miranda. It is greatly appreciated by my husband and myself."

Janice Freeves, along with her husband Phillip, came to also introduce themselves to Mrs. Snape. It was Janice who noticed that Hermione, as she insisted everyone call her, seemed depressed about the whole meeting. Janice was quick and very clever to figure out that it was old-fashioned envy. She had never heard the full-particulars of why Miranda refused to have so little to do with her family but had always assumed there was a slice of cause in the whole matter. Branden had confided to her that Miranda was 'sent' away and her parents' felt she was a burden of sorts. Janice knew that though Miranda was far beyond her years intellectually that still made her a teenager and not above dramatizing events- past and present.

Hermione quickly introduced her husband, Severus Snape who did not prefer to be called Severus. She also introduced her children present: two older twin boys-Remus and Theo, a younger girl-Lillian and a set of twins-Eileen and Henry. Hermione mentioned an older son who was in study and internship abroad by the name of Leo. The rest of the children seemed very little like their sister. It amazed Dr. Jordan, Rob and Paul's mother, that the other children were playful, clever, slightly rude in a sarcastic way, and very comfortable with their parents while Miranda was anything but that. The other Snapes also looked like both their parents' but favored one or the other definitively. Miranda was blessed with the best of both but she was an odd fit. Miranda had done everything since her family had arrived early that morning to avoid them. She had breakfast with the Jordans and got ready with the Hentons. While Dr. Jordan never minded Miranda's presence and secretly was thrilled with it in that she had eight sons and no daughters; she was worried if this wouldn't lead to a fight or worse between the young girl and her family.

"Mr. and Mrs. Snape, I'm sure you know the 'Crew' have been so close for so long…and it was their idea to have a joint graduation open house. I tried contacting the both of you but I wasn't able to reach anyone. I'm really sorry and I know this is last notice but we included Mir--I mean Miranda--in the plans, too. It will be at our house out on Fire Island later this evening. I don't know how long you plan on staying but you are, of course, welcome and don't need to worry about anything. We took care of it. As we've said, we're very proud of Miranda as much as our own kids. She's an amazing daughter." Garnet Jordan spoke, looking to both of the Snapes, in hopeful expectation. He had tried to contact them but never received any response. He had used a few contacts he had abroad and made sure he had the right addresses and numbers listed. Nothing ever came of it.

Severus first looked to his daughter. Miranda had said barely three words to them since they arrived. She was aloof and distant. He assumed this was merely how she was; afterall he'd been the same way at that age. Yet, he watched her with her friends and their families before and after the 'graduation rite' and discovered that was not all who she was. She laughed and smiled with her friends. She was enveloped in hugs and kisses from all of their parents and warm smiles. She was happy with them. She talked non-stop with her teachers- welcoming an informality that he'd never seen or cared to from a student to a teacher. He had rallied it showed a certain amount of disrespect. But maybe this was American Muggle culture and this was what she had been raised in too.

He then looked to his wife. Her eyes had dimmed since they arrived. His normally vibrant know-it-all talkative wife was reserved and complacent. She'd not been this way an entire day of their courtship or marriage. What had come over her was a mystery at first. It was currently, as this man spoke to them, he realized what was wrong.

These strangers- these complete Muggle strangers- had raised their daughter. They knew everything about her and they were the ones planning her celebration. In another place, it should have been them but it wasn't. Miranda hadn't even thought to contact them. She'd known that reaching them by any Muggle means would have been difficult if not impossible. Miranda knew how to owl a person and to obtain one wouldn't have been ridiculous. There were several Owl Posts within the States; over five in New York City alone. He was then very angry with his daughter and how she'd hurt her mother.

A scowl, the very earmark of his perturbance, spread across his face. He took the stance he had taken so often in past days as a Professor. His drawl was slow and deep and darkened. "We appreciate to all the work you went through but I am afraid my wife and our family had plans of our own to celebrate Miranda's accomplishments. Perhaps when we are finished she may go out but we will be unable to attend."

It was at this exact moment Miranda had walked over to the growing group of adults. She had meant to make it over sooner just in case there were questions that arose but she had been caught-up in the excitement.

"What?!" Miranda practically yelled at her father.

"Miranda today is a day with your family and we have traveled very far to be here. You will be spending it with us and not another word." Her Father spoke- his tone was not to be misunderstood.

Miranda looked at them and then to the Hentons, Freeves, and Jordans and mumbled a quick apology and retreated back to the school to finish packing. Neither of her parents followed her as Hermione had stormed off in the direction of the parking lot and with her children on her heels.

Garnet was steaming; he spoke his mind very clearly to Mr. Snape. "We have been her family. She has spent holidays and summers with us. Every joy and hurt in her life we have been there for--where were you? You are her father by all biological accounts, that I'm sure but we are her family, too. And we deserved the right to celebrate this day with her. When you are finished with "your plans" please send her to the address on this card." With that, Garnet Jordan slammed a card against Severus Snape's chest and strode off. His wife had gone to help and check-on Miranda. The rest of the parental group walked past him and ignored him completely.

Severus made his way to his wife who was leaning against a pole. Remus and Theo had been using a Muggle pay phone to call their car and Lillian, Eileen and Henry were sitting on a bench nearby.

"How could you?" She muttered angrily at her husband.

"Because it was the right thing to do." He responded, giving no pause or doubt as to his decision.

"Was it?"

"Yes, Hermione it was. She's our daughter. She refuses to see us most of the time but I will not allow her this- this is a time for family." He was silent for a moment before finishing. "And you taught me that much."

Their car arrived and by the time it had Miranda had joined them solemnly and without accompaniment. She placed her boxes and things in the trunk of the car. For a normal Muggle car this would not have been possible but for the magical car they had been given as a special courtesy from the American Magical Consulate it had an extendable trunk. They rode to the hotel where the driver and valets unloaded the trunk. Miranda and the rest of the family stalked up in complete silence to their rooms.

Hermione and Severus had gone to their room and where changing to head to the restaurant when they heard a knock. Hermione opened the door to their daughter. Miranda's eyes were red and darker than normal. Her face was very obviously tear-stained. She didn't say anything but motioned for her parents to sit on the small loveseat in the suite. Hermione obliged but Severus preferred to stand near the fireplace behind it.

She didn't seem to care either way. She was still; looking at the ground as if choosing her words carefully or attempting to not let her emotions get the best of her. She looked at both of them and started to talk.

"I'm done. I'm done trying to pretend this will ever work or make sense. We have all been kidding ourselves for far too long. I know the both of you well-enough to believe you to be above all else logical and rational human beings. I have inherited at least that much from you both. Nevertheless, let us be logical on the matter…the matter of me. I am not magical. I will never be magical. You are both magical. Leo, Remus, Theo, Lillian, Henry and Eileen are magical. They have grown-up in that world just like you. I have not. I haven't even grown-up in the same country. We come from two separate worlds and I have a life that you wanted no part of or have had no part in…in a very long time. I'll admit for the past few years this has been my decision. I made the choice to stay away. I didn't send me here though- and I didn't make things difficult the few times I did come home. All of that Mum and Father falls on you."

She paused, wiped more tears from her eyes, and took a deep breath. "I cannot pretend that I don't believe that you don't love me and that you didn't send me away because I was something wrong in your sight. I wish I could believe what you did was the best for me but I'm 16 years old and I have nothing to show me otherwise. In a few days, I will leave for college. After that, unless it is an absolute emergency or a far greater force persuades me, I will not be coming home or in contact with the family-at all. There is no need for you to acknowledge your absentee daughter and there will be no reason for me to wonder about a family I never see. I will not be going to dinner with you tonight. It will be awkward and useless. I have called Mrs. Freeve and she is sending some workers to help me with my stuff and I will move in with them till I leave for Princeton."

Hermione was sobbing and Severus refused to look at her. The ungrateful-evil-twit--how could he have raised…

He stopped, realizing that was the problem. He hadn't raised her.

Miranda's voice was steady and calm as if a peace had come over her at finally saying what a seven year old little girl needed to say years ago. "Mum, don't waste your tears on me…I will be just fine."

With nothing more than that- she turned and left the room.

I don't know what happened after I left their room that day. I guess I stopped caring. I didn't stop loving my family but caring about what they thought or would think of me--yeah, that was no more. I came this week because my Mum begged and because Uncle Harry begged and because my brothers and sisters had begged and because I was about to begin a new chapter in my life. I wanted this one to end. I needed to know things were going to be okay for them all so I could move on with my life. While I may have stopped worrying about what they thought of me- I didn't stop worrying about them.

"Miranda."

"Father."

And with that, he spoke two other words. "ACCIO notebook." A worn-leather notebook on the table near my Father's chair flew to his hand. He held the notebook in his hand and looked to me as I continued to focus on the journal in my lap.

"New order?" I asked politely.

"No, refining process."

"I see."

"Research?" He asked politely.

"Of sorts. Peer articles."

"Of course. Dinner will be at seven. Your Mum is at the Potters."

"Thank-you…for…telling me."

"Right."

Thus ended the longest conversation my Father and I have had in nearly ten years and then I am not certain you could have called our last interaction much of a conversation. It was more a one-ended conversation with me doing all the talking.

At least it was…civil. Is that the right word? Is it dreadfully horrible that a 'talk' between a girl and her father is of all things- civil? Shouldn't it be more? Or is this is that all that can ever be between us?

I shake my head. I clear my thoughts. I return back to my medical journals. I turn back to the comfort of facts, cases, and history. And it's with this that I sigh and lean back a little more and realize, frightened, that I am more like my parents than I could have ever imagined.

Not even I can hide from that.

ROOF OF PRINCETON-PLANESBORO TEACHING HOSPITAL

"You're late."

"Sorry. They were out of pickles."

"Out of pickles?"

"I made them steal them from a poor pregnant woman in 32 hour labor in the Maternity ward. She had them stashed in a fridge there."

"I love you."

"You love your Rueben with pickles."

"You're right."

There was a comfortable silence between the two as they ate their sandwiches on the roof of P.P.T.H.

"You know you want to ask it…"

"You met her?"

"Her, as in who?"

"Don't make me say it."

"Who, House?"

"Doctor Snake…"

"It's Snape."

"Whatever. You met her."

"I gave her a tour of the Hospital."

"What did you find out?"

"Nothing, House; absolutely nothing."

"Yeah right. I know you…spill." He said as he stopped eating his Rueben. He walked closer and glared. "What do you know?"

"She's smart."

"Duh. What else?"

"No, House I mean she's really smart. I bet Foreman 50 she'll outsmart you on her first day."

"Thanks for the confidence."

"You're welcome."

"What else did you learn? You like to talk and all that feeling crap. Didn't you like bond or something?"

"No. I took her on the tour of the Hospital. She was quiet. She was reserved. She barely even spoke. She's definitely from England but has lived here a long time. Her accent is faded. She's very dedicated to this job and making it work. That's it, House."

"What does she look like?"

"Why?"

"What do you mean- 'Why?' Jealous?"

"No. She's medium height, athletic, dark curly hair and a slight tan."

"Hmmmmm…"

"What was that? Why are you so curious about her?"

"Clinic duty." Was all House said and he returned to his sandwich and his scheming.

TBC...